


Lukewarm

by crypticrose



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, i wrote this during class while hiding my phone under the desk, its a bittersweet ending??, posted directly from my phone so laughs at how bad the formating is gonna be, sorry for any errors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:42:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2664020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crypticrose/pseuds/crypticrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was so easy to fall into his illusion. He knew you better than anyone, he knew exactly what he had to become to be yours. And it stung when the realization hit you that he was acting. You were his best friend. You were his brother. You were, to him, what Sakura was now to you. He loved you with everything he had, but it wasn't in the same way that you loved him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lukewarm

**Author's Note:**

> Quick drabble that I wrote during forensics when we were learning about the different stages of rot that a corpse goes through! Fun times. It was going to have a disgustingly sad ending but my friend yelled at me until I made it happier. So enjoy. Im also working on my version of how naruto should've ended (which will be sadder than the planned ending for this piece, brace yourself if that ever gets published)

He was always searching for a way to make you stay. He found out, one afternoon -after a drunken confession- that the best thing to offer up was himself. His willingness to sacrifice himself had always worried you, you didn't know where he had developed this martyr complex but you were willing to bet it stemmed from his internalized self loathing. You were too drunk to make the connection at first. His warm fingers intertwined with yours and he tentatively pulled you into a kiss. Your mind stopped working for a second, and when he pulled back you wanted to say something special, something that would make him pull you into another kiss and never let you go. Suddenly you found yourself in his position, desperately trying to find a way to make him stay. You opened your mouth, but you were still quite inebriated, and the only thing you could think to say was, "You taste like ramen."

He grinned and tried to hold back a laugh,"Yeah well you taste like sake," he scrunched up his face in exaggerated displeasure.

You snorted, "better than ramen." You couldn't help but smirk at the way his eyes widened and lit with a playful fire.

"You better wipe that smug ass look off your face teme!"

"Or what?" He raised an eyebrow at your response, and looked about ready to reply. That couldn't happen. You werent witty enough at the moment to keep up this banter. You were beginning to regain your motor function, and you took advantage of that fact by tracing your fingers along his whiskers. Or whatever the fuck they were. His grin faltered a bit, and he looked a little... Conflicted? Your drunken mind didn't have much time to dwell on that though, because he pulled you roughly into another kiss. This time it wasn't soft and tight lipped like the first one, it wasn't pretend. It was real. The fire behind it was real. But you didn't see the difference in your drunken haze, you only had one thought. That your 'romantic line' had its desired effect, and maybe ramen wasn't so bad when you tasted it off of his tongue.

 

The next few weeks were almost perfect, after you got past the initial shame and fear of having confessed to him. You didn't remember it when you opened your eyes the next morning. You didn't even remember it when you realized that the bed you were in was not your own. You did however remember it when you squeezed your eyes shut, to try and block out your pounding migraine, and an all too familiar voice laughed from the doorway.

"Maybe you should stay away from the sake for a while, teme."

You froze, you panicked, you remembered, and without opening your eyes you smiled lightly.

"Maybe you should stay away from the ramen for a while, dobe"

Your retort earned you a pillow to the face. You groaned in pain, but you also felt something stir in your chest.

_Maybe I'll stay in Konoha after all._

 

It was so easy to fall into his illusion. He knew you better than anyone, he knew exactly what he had to become to be yours. And it stung when the realization hit you that he was acting. You were his best friend. You were his brother. You were, to him, what Sakura was now to you. He loved you with everything he had, but it wasn't in the same way that you loved him. And somewhere in the back of your mind you knew it since the beginning, but running from thoughts of him was an old habit, and old habits were hard to kick. He would grin at you, the most beautiful look in his eyes, and tell you he loved you. He wasn't lying. But the words were meant to hold a different meaning. The realization hit you slowly. The more you pushed it away, the more it festered. You felt like crying every time he gripped your hand in the street. You felt like punching the wall until your knuckles bleed every time he pressed his lips to your body. Whenever he began to strip off your clothes you wanted to tell him to stop. You wanted to tell him he didn't have to, you wanted to still his wandering hands in a soft grip and tell him that you knew, and that it was okay. You wanted to tell him that you wouldn't try to run away anymore, because no matter how far you ran you were always pulled back to his side. But you didn't. And it made you sick. The way he moaned your name into your neck like it was a prayer was almost too tragic to be erotic.

 _Almost_.

He always pulled you close in his post coital haze. He would wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest. He wanted to feel your pulse, to know that you were alive and by his side. And you didn't mind. It was warm in his arms. It was so easy to close your eyes and drift back into the illusion.

"I love you," he would mumble into your hair. And you would hum and smile (a small upturn at the corners if your lips) into his chest as his arms tightened around you. It was bliss. His sweat sticking to your skin, his sheets tangled around your legs. You allowed yourself to pretend again.

 

 

Tonight was different. You couldn't explain why but the sting of his feelings for you felt so raw in your chest. He didn't love you. He just wanted you to stay. He didn't love you. This was another fucking way of him sacrificing himself for the people dear to him. He didn't love you. He didnt love you. He didn't-

You began laughing. You began laughing because the way your chest constricted was hilarious. The way his fingers traced your spine was so ridiculous that you choked. You couldn't breathe. That just made you laugh harder. Made your laugh scrape your throat as raw as the feeling in your chest. You laughed until your mouth tasted as bitter as you felt. You didn't know when you started crying, if you could call it that. You didn't know when he pulled away from your embrace to frantically ask you what was wrong. The look of concern in his bright eyes was disgusting. The way he cupped your face with his hands made your skin crawl. You wanted to tell him. You wanted to push him away. You wanted to hurt him. But most of all you wanted to leave. You wanted to turn your back on him again and run until you collapsed. But you were tired of running. you were so, so tired. In the end all you did was curl in on yourself, and allow him to wrap his arms around you again. He rocked you gently, murmuring comforting things into your ear.

You were shaking too hard to notice.

"Sasuke?" he asked after a while. You had calmed down sufficiently by now, but there was still a tremor in your limbs that his presence couldn't soothe.

"Hm?" you hummed, not trusting yourself with words.

"I love you." He pulled back a bit so he could meet your eyes, what you saw in them terrified you more than it should have. It was a look he gave you many times, but now it didn't look quite as... forced? "I mean that you know. Sometimes you look at me like you don't believe it..." He trailed off losing his train of thought.

It was so easy to slip into his illusion. So simple to bury your face in the crook of his neck and forget about reality. It was easier to give in to him than to fight him. You were sick of fighting him. You were sick... You wanted to laugh again, but your throat tasted like blood and burned like fire. You didn't have the will to suck in enough air to laugh, let alone speak. You just lay there and let him card his fingers through your hair. He moved your bangs off of your forehead and pressed his chin to it lightly. He'd done this an innumerable amount of times through the course of your... relationship.

But this time it felt... different?

Maybe it wasn't, but the hope you buried long ago stirred in your chest, because maybe it was. 


End file.
